If You Can't Be
by ArcadianMaggie
Summary: Best friends, roommates, they've known each other all their lives. What happens when one's boyfriend can't make their Valentine's date? Written for the No Stress Love Fest. Jasper/Peter, Jasper/Edward, AH. Slash. Rated M.


**Disclaimer: All Twilight characters belong to Stephenie Meyer, Little, Brown, et. al. No profit was made and no copyright infringement is intended.**

AN: Written for the **No Stress Love Fest** on Live Journal

Prompt(s): #13 (If you can't be with the one you love - love the one you're with.), with tweaked versions of #37 (Valentine's Day anniversary) and #40 (Valentine's Day through the years - Kindergarten, middle school, high school - always the same. What if college finally makes the difference?)

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If You Can't Be (with the One You Love)

**February 14, 1998**

"That movie was freaky. I can't believe your parents let us watch it."

"I know, right? I told them we wanted something scary for Valentine's Day. Like the story of the guy with the hook on lover's lane, where everything ends in blood and guts and the guy and the girl get all slaughtered and stuff. That's what they picked out. Said it was a classic."

"They got the blood part right. She was covered in it!"

"I know! It'd be cool to be able to move things with your mind like that. The part where she knocked the kid off the bike was great."

"You mean, when she went like this?" I asked, giving him a stare with my telekinetic eyes while reaching over to shove him off the couch.

"Hey!" he yelled as he tumbled to the floor. "No, it was more like this," he said, whipping his head around with his own version of super power eyes, while grabbing my leg and pulling me onto the floor.

"I think it happened like this," I said, shooting another intense stare and shoving him across the floor with my feet.

We battled back and forth, wrestling and shoving each other until we were both on our backs, laughing and trying to catch our breaths.

"C'mon," Edward said. "We better go out to the tree house before Mom makes us go to bed."

"Okay," I agreed, getting up off the floor.

"Where do you boys think you're going?" Edward's mom asked as we were putting on our coats, her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised.

"We just need to go out to the tree house for a few minutes. We forgot something up there," Edward answered.

"Twenty minutes, then back inside," she informed us. "It's time for bed."

"Okay, twenty minutes," Edward agreed as he opened the door, grabbing the flashlight he had set out earlier. "Hurry up, Jasper," he said as he started running across the yard. I followed after him.

"Hold out your hand," he whispered once we were up the ladder and settled on the platform.

I felt something soft and wet rubbing across my palm.

"It's going to sting. Are you ready?"

I shut my eyes. "Yes," I whispered, steeling myself, determined not to chicken out.

The cold blade of the knife touched my skin and I flinched, pulling back my hand reflexively.

"You have to hold still," he hissed, grabbing my hand and holding it steady.

"Sorry."

I felt the blade again, and this time didn't move as he slid it across my palm. It did sting.

"Okay, now you do me," he said, handing the knife to me and holding out his hand. "Remember, not too deep, just the skin."

I nodded my head. Using the rubbing alcohol, I wet a cotton ball then swiped first the blade of the knife and then his palm. Holding his wrist with one hand, I carefully drew the blade across his skin with my other. As the liquid beads began to form in a dark line across his pale flesh, I began to feel a little woozy.

"Now take my hand," he directed and I pulled my eyes away, setting the knife down before clasping his hand with mine, palm to palm.

"I'm going to bind them together," he said, and I felt something soft and silky being wrapped around our hands.

"Do you remember the oath?" he asked.

"Yes. Do you want me to go first?" I asked.

"I'll go first, then you, then together. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

He turned off the flashlight before starting to speak the words we had memorized from the Internet. I tried to look at his face, but it was too dark. It didn't matter; I knew Edward's as well as my own.

"With the full moon as my witness, I pledge my loyalty and friendship 'til death and beyond. I enter into this sacred covenant with an oath taken freely, sealed with my blood. My blood is now your blood.

"Now you go," he whispered after he was finished speaking.

I repeated the oath word for word. When I was finished, Edward prompted, "Okay, together now."

We spoke in unison: "From this moment forward, bound by blood, we will always be brothers. This is my solemn vow."

We were silent for a moment. "Is it done?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said grinning, turning on the flashlight again. "We're blood brothers, for real." He started unwinding the scarf that was wrapped around our hands. "Let me see," he said, grabbing my hand and turning the palm up. "Look, that's both of our blood, all mixed up together. Wow. Who'd think there'd be that much from those little cuts?" His tone was that of a scientist, remarking on an interesting discovery.

As my eyes took in the dark stain covering my skin, I could feel myself getting light-headed again. Sweat broke out on my upper lip and I could hear a buzzing sound in my ears. Edward's voice hummed on, as if coming from a great distance. "I should clean these up and probably put a bandage over them. If my parents ask, don't tell them what happened. Dad would completely freak." The buzzing grew louder then everything went dark.

"Jasper," a voice spoke urgently in my ear. Something was shaking my shoulder. I opened my eyes to see Edward's worried face, inches from my own.

"Edward?" I asked, confused. "What happened?"

"I think you fainted."

"Oh," I said embarrassed. "It must have been from all the blood."

"Really?" He looked skeptical. "We just watched a movie that had huge tons of blood. This is only a little bit."

"That was fake and this was real," I explained defensively.

"Well, are you okay now?"

"I think so."

"Are you sure? I can go get Dad."

"No! Don't get him. I'm fine." I didn't want the grown-ups to ruin everything. This was our ceremony. Mine and Edward's.

"Okay. Just shut your eyes while I clean us up. Then we better get inside. Mom's going to be yelling for us any second."

"All right."

When he was finished, I got to my feet. I must have still looked bad because he told me that he was going to go down the ladder first, so he could help me down.

My stomach was still a little queasy and my legs were shaky. When my foot slipped, I felt his body behind me, catching me as he guided me back to the rung.

"Don't worry," he said in my ear. "I've got you. I'm not going to let you fall."

**February 14, 2009**

"But it's Valentine's Day," I protested.

"I'm sorry, babe," Peter's voice responded over the phone. "I'll make it up to you next year."

"When do you think you'll be home?"

"I have no idea. The update goes live on Monday and the testers found a huge exploit. We're going to be here all night. Probably most of tomorrow too. I'll call you when it looks like we're out of the weeds."

"Okay. Well, happy Valentine's Day anyway."

"Yeah, okay, talk to you later."

He sounded distracted and I could tell he was anxious to get back to work. I was disappointed. Not only was it Valentine's Day, it was our one year anniversary. We had planned to go out to the club where we first met, and I had really been looking forward to it. At least there was the silver lining; he said he'd make it up to me next year, which meant he saw us lasting at least that long. The thought cheered me up a little.

A lot had changed since last Valentine's. This time last year I had recently come out, had just moved into my new apartment, and had never even kissed a boy. My relationship with my family was in tatters and the stress had taken a heavy toll on me. Edward, my best friend in the world, was determined to cheer me up. He decided we were going to go out dancing, and I was finally going to get laid.

"Jas, you've dealt long enough with some of the shitastic aspects of being gay in America. Now it's time to enjoy the good parts. You know… the parts where you get to fuck cute guys." He grinned that crooked charming grin of his, the one no one seemed to be able to resist, and I had reluctantly agreed to be dragged to the club.

Fucking cute men was something Edward knew about better than most. He had come out several years prior, and I had watched him with envy as he unapologetically and enthusiastically brought home guy after guy. I didn't think I could ever be like that, but after years of wanking to porn and vague fantasies of faceless, nameless men, I was anxious to have a few sexual experiences for myself.

I was a little embarrassed to still be a virgin at twenty-one, but I hadn't been ready to come out before then, not even to Edward. I knew how my family would react, and although I had harbored secret hopes that they'd surprise me, they responded exactly as I had expected. My father, with only the greatest of effort, was barely able to stop himself from beating me to a pulp after one vicious punch to the face. He was, however, able to strike an even more painful blow by forbidding me to ever step foot in his house again and declaring I was no longer his son. My mother looked on with distraught sympathetic eyes, but she would never go against my father.

I had waited as long as I had because when I turned twenty-one, I received access to the trust fund my grandmother had set up for me. It didn't make me wealthy, but it was enough to give me financial independence and allow me to finish school. Maybe I had been a coward, but with the prospect of losing my family, I didn't think I could go through learning how to support myself on top of everything else.

That night I had gone straight from my parents' to Edward's. I could see the look of shock then recognition on his face within seconds of opening the door.

"I came out to my parents tonight."

He didn't show even the slightest bit of surprise, which confirmed something that had always been unspoken between us; he already knew, and had for a long time.

His arms wrapped around me in a strong hug and I could feel the tightness in my throat and a prickling behind my eyelids. At least I hadn't lost everyone who mattered to me.

He got me settled on the couch, then went to the kitchen to get some ice for my face. He returned with not only the ice, but a bottle of tequila.

I nodded in approval. "I want to get shit-faced drunk. And then tomorrow after we puke our guts out and eat some greasy hangover food, I want to go apartment hunting together."

And that's what we did. We found a two bedroom apartment close to campus and had moved in within days. It cost extra to get out of our current leases, but it was worth it to be living with Edward again.

We had roomed together Freshman year, excited about starting our college life together, best friends out on our own for the first time, but over the summer, when my father got wind of the news that Edward was gay, he forbade me from "living with a faggot" and threatened to stop paying for school if I didn't agree to get a new roommate.

When I told Edward I couldn't room with him sophomore year, he looked as though he had been expecting the news.

"That's okay, Jasper. We'll still be friends. Nothing's ever going to change that."

Nothing ever had. After moving back in together, we fell right back into old routines. I watched with bemusement as a steady stream of men stumbled out of his bedroom in the mornings, bleary eyed and looking well fucked. They weren't all one night stands. Sometimes they'd stick around for a while, but never for long, and eventually they'd be replaced with someone new.

"Don't you ever want to find someone special instead of having all these hook ups with these different guys?" I had asked him one day.

"I'm planning to go to med school when I graduate. It'll be years before I'll have the time to put into a steady relationship like that. May as well enjoy myself in the meantime."

Now he had decided it was time for me to enjoy myself. Almost two months had passed since that awful night at my folks, and I hadn't done much since then but go to class and hide out at the apartment.

He helped me pick out a shirt to wear and took me to a club. After loosening me up with a few drinks, he dragged me out on the dance floor. I felt extremely self conscious, and a little foolish, stiff and awkward, especially next to Edward who always seemed to exude a sexy grace. His lifted my arms up to his shoulders and grabbed my hips with his hands, helping me move to the music.

"Relax, Jasper. We're here to have fun. Just take a look around. See if anyone catches your eye, and ask him to dance. It's that simple."

Maybe for him. Edward was gorgeous and confident and smart and sexy. I had seen firsthand how easy it was for him to get dates. Even though I had been thinking about something like this for years, it was all new to me and I was nervous.

I tried to do as he suggested and surveyed the crowd. As another song started, I noticed a man leaning on the bar, watching us. He was older, probably mid thirties, tall with dark hair. When my eyes caught his, he didn't look away. I felt a nervous flip in my stomach at his intense gaze.

"What about him?" I asked Edward. "Dark hair, over by the bar. Tall, black shirt. He's watching us." Edward maneuvered us so that he could get a look at the guy.

"Do you know him?" I asked.

"Yeah, that's Peter. He's a pretty good guy. I've seen him around. Does something with computers."

"Have you ever…" I wanted to ask if Edward had ever slept with him, but that was a little too weird for me, and I trailed off without getting the question out.

"No," he answered me anyway. "We're not really… sexually compatible."

"Oh," I replied, embarrassed, once I figured out his meaning.

Edward just laughed. "C'mon. Let's get another drink. I'll make myself scarce after a few and you can ask him to dance."

We stood at the bar sipping our beer while I tried not to be too obvious about checking him out. Every time I glanced over, I noticed he was checking me out too.

Edward leaned in. "I think you should go for it. Peter's been around; he'll know what he's doing. And he's a nice enough guy."

I could feel my face flushing as Edward calmly discussed me losing my virginity to a stranger I was about to pick up in a bar.

"Here," he continued, pressing something into my hand. I looked down to see a condom. "Never, ever, _ever_ have sex without one."

I nodded, slipping it into my pocket, too embarrassed to speak.

"I'm heading back out to dance. You gonna be okay?"

I nodded again.

"Remember, I'm here if you need me."

I watched as Edward eased his way back into the pulsating crowd. Within minutes he was surrounded by hot shirtless boys rubbing up against him as they danced to the beat. I swallowed, glancing back over at Peter. He was still staring at me. Watching Edward, who always looked so careless and free, gave me courage. I picked up my beer and walked over to where he was standing.

"Would you like to dance?" I asked, my hands sweating, my heart pounding with nervousness.

"Aren't you here with Edward?" he asked.

"Yes. I mean no. I mean, we came together, but we're just friends. He's like my brother," I stammered. I could feel my cheeks heating up again.

He watched me with a bemused expression on his face, then put his drink down on the bar, saying, "Sure."

Before I could even react, he grabbed my hand in his, cocking his head toward the dance floor, and I was following him, my heart pounding. Edward's words rang in my ears: it's that simple.

As Edward had done, he lifted my arms to his shoulders and grabbed my hips, swaying to the music. But as Edward hadn't done, Peter pulled me toward him so that my body was flush against his, our chests, thighs, and groins touching in ways I had only dreamed about. His breath was hot in my ear and I could smell him—spicy, earthy, masculine. When he started moving, rubbing his body on mine, his thigh pushing between my legs so he could grind himself more closely against me, I felt my head spin and thought I might actually pass out from the sensation, and might have if my arms hadn't been anchored around his neck.

My pulse was racing. When he pressed an open mouth kiss on the side of my neck, his tongue tasting my skin, I moaned, pushing my cock against him. He answered in kind, grinding against me, moving his hands from my hips to wrap them around my back and pull me even closer. We swayed like that, our cocks sliding against each other in small erotic movements while his mouth explored my neck, my throat, my jaw. I was panting by the time his mouth reached my own, completely overwhelmed by my body's response. I couldn't think. Everything was heat and muscle and hard and want and felt so fucking good.

Then his tongue was in my mouth, sliding against my own and I thought I would die. I heard long ragged moans and only realized moments later they were coming from me. His breath was hot on my face, lips soft then firm, mouth wet, cock hard against mine, and my fingers were frantically reaching down the neckline of his shirt, desperate to touch more of his skin.

He pulled away and I stared at him dazed, fascinated by the naked hunger I could see on his face. I knew mine must look the same. Finally, I knew what it felt like to want a man and be wanted in return. His head tipped toward mine again and he captured the lobe of my ear with a small nip.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and thrilled when he crushed me back against him, his teeth biting sharply down on my neck, right behind my ear. My cock jerked in response and I gave a small keening cry. He laughed against my neck, whispering a breathless, "So fucking hot."

I wanted to find Edward to let him know I was leaving. Looking around I saw him not far from us on the dance floor, some boy draped all over him. He was watching us, a strange expression on his face. When I caught his eye, his expression morphed into his crooked grin as he started laughing. I rolled my eyes, shooting him a smile back and mouthed "leaving," pointing to the door. He nodded, bringing his hand up to his ear in the shape of a telephone, mouthing back, "Call me later."

Peter grabbed my hand, leading me out of the club. When the cool night air hit our faces, he asked, "What's your name, gorgeous?"

"Jasper."

"Jasper," he repeated. "I like it." He turned to smile at me and I smiled back, watching the creases that formed around his mouth and eyes. "I'm Peter."

"I know," I answered before I could censor my response.

He laughed then tugged me toward him, grabbing my bottom lip between his teeth.

I moaned again, melting into him.

"Jesus," he breathed. "Let's get you home before I do you right here on the sidewalk."

He grabbed my hand again, walking briskly toward his car.

He kept his fingers linked with mine the entire drive, his thumb rubbing lazy circles over my skin. Everywhere he touched felt like fire. Panic began to take hold now that my head was clearing. I hoped he couldn't feel how much my hand was sweating.

When we got to his place, he ushered me in, asking, "Would you like something to drink?"

I was already pretty buzzed and didn't think it'd be such a good idea to have more, so I shook my head no.

"I'm just going to have a glass of water real quick. Would you like some?"

"Yes, thank you."

"I've never seen you at the club before," he said as he filled two glasses with water from the side of the refrigerator.

"No, that was my first time there."

"So you asked Edward about me?" he asked with a grin.

"Yeah."

"What did he say? I'm assuming nothing horrible, since you came home with me."

"He said you were a nice guy. And that you'd know what you're doing." I added quietly with some embarrassment. I wanted to let him know I had never done this before, wanted him to be careful, but I didn't know how to bring it up.

"Well, Edward's right," he said, placing his glass down on the counter and pulling me toward him by my belt loops, so our groins were touching again. "I do, indeed, know what I'm doing. Although I'm not that nice."

With that he took the glass out of my hand, set it on the counter, then reached behind my neck with his hand, pulling my face to his. God, his mouth. His kisses were nothing like they had been in the club. They were hot and hungry as his lips devoured mine. His tongue plunged into my mouth, exploring every last centimeter, tasting, teasing. Taking. Like before, my response was overwhelming. I was almost shaking at his commanding assault, my head spinning, my knees going weak. My hands were gripping his shirt and I was moaning into his mouth, my own tongue winding around his, sliding, stroking, sucking.

As he pulled away, I leaned toward him, trying to maintain our connection. He was breathing heavily as his eyes searched my face. He must have been satisfied with what he found because he grabbed my hand and started to pull me from the kitchen saying, "Bedroom."

My nerves were jangling again as we entered his bedroom. What the fuck was I doing?

He kissed me again, and again, and again until I stopping thinking about how nervous I was and could only think about his mouth, his hands, my cock. At some point he had removed his shirt and I could feel him pulling at mine, sliding it up my torso, his hands hot on my skin.

"Take this off," he directed, leaning over to kiss the skin he had exposed, trailing his tongue over my ribs, up to my nipples, sucking on one and biting it gently. I ripped my shirt off and grabbed his head, pulling it back to my mouth, afraid that I'd come in my pants from what he had just been doing to me. His hands were at my waistband next. I was going to die. I was going to go up in flames and perish. Then his hand was on my cock and my hips were jerking and I was practically sobbing it felt so good.

"I'm going to suck your cock, and you're going to come down my throat; then we're going to slow down and take our time and I'm going to fuck you." His breath was hot in my ear.

I nodded as he pushed me back to the bed and directed me to sit. Somehow my pants were off and he was kneeling between my legs, taking my cock in his mouth, licking and sucking, wet and hot, and so good. There was no way I could last. I had never felt anything this intense in my entire life. I was leaning back on my elbows, watching my cock sliding in and out of his mouth. My _cock_ was sliding in and out of his mouth. When he looked up at me, as his tongue was slipping around the ridge of my head, I felt my eyes practically roll back in my head as my hips bucked and jerked, cum shooting from my dick. He took me deep while I spasmed, keeping me in his mouth until the last of my release was down his throat.

My bones felt like jelly. I had fallen back and had my arm over my face, breathing heavily, legs shaking. Oh my god. That was the most incredible experience of my life. It felt too amazing for me to be embarrassed about how quickly I had shot my load.

I felt a dip on the bed next to me and Peter was pulling at my arm, "Come up here," he said.

I forced my body to move, scooting up so that my head was lying on the pillow next to him. He leaned over to kiss me again and I clung to his shoulders, moaning into his mouth when I tasted my own jizz on his tongue. So hot.

"I love the noises you make," he said, nuzzling my neck. "So fucking sexy." He continued to touch me and kiss me, gently rocking his erection against my thigh. I tried to reach down and stroke it, attempting to return the favor, but he pulled my arm away, saying, "We've got plenty of time for that. Just relax and let me make you feel good."

I didn't know how it could be possible for me to feel any better, but I lay there, enjoying the feeling of his lips on my body, his tongue in my mouth, his hands on my skin.

Unknown amounts of time passed as we lay there kissing and touching, but eventually, I felt stirrings in my dick again. His hand was between my thighs, stroking the skin, massaging my balls. With each stroke, I felt his hand move back further between my legs until his finger was touching my entrance. When I stiffened, he whispered in my ear, telling me to relax.

He shifted and I heard him getting something from the nightstand, then I heard the cap of a lube bottle opening and his hand was back between my legs. When his finger reached my hole again and pressed gently, I gasped into his mouth. He answered me with another deep kiss that made my head spin.

With slow sensual strokes, deep heady kisses, slick knowing fingers, he eventually eased two fingers inside of me. He was going slow, letting my body grow accustomed to the intrusion bit by bit until the feel of his fingers sliding in and out of me was something I was eager for.

"I'm going to add another," he said quietly. "Stroke your cock; it will help."

I did, wincing as I felt him slipping a third finger into my tight hole. The stretch burned, and I wondered how much it was going to hurt when it was his actual cock. But my hand sliding up and down my erection did help and I gasped when he reached deep, curling his fingers to set off shocks of pleasure through me.

After he had stretched me enough to have his fingers sliding easily, he pulled them out, stroking my cock a few times with his hand wrapped around mine, before sitting up and shifting my hips so that he was kneeling between my bent legs.

I watched him roll on a condom and coat it with lube, then he was helping me to lift my legs up to his shoulders. This was it. I was about to have sex with a man for the first time.

"I've never done this before," I whispered.

"I know," he answered. "I'll go slow. Tell me if you want me to stop."

I nodded, swallowing nervously.

He poised his dick at my entrance and rubbed it back and forth across my loosened hole, then he was pushing in, slowly. It hurt. A lot. I shut my eyes tightly, trying not to tense up.

"You okay?" Peter asked.

I nodded and felt him push in further.

Once he was all the way in, it felt a little better, but the stretch still burned. My erection had flagged and I felt his hand on my dick, stroking me as he began to move. Again I was overwhelmed by the intensity of my emotions. I was finally having sex. With a man. A cock was deep inside my ass, filling me up, stretching me to the point of pain. Large strong hands were stroking me, thumb rubbing the ridge of my cock, smearing my pre-cum over the head. After all these years, my secret longings were being fulfilled. This is what I wanted. This is what I had given up my family for, the chance to live the life I deserved, one that didn't require me to hide my deepest desires.

The more he moved, the less it ached. He picked up speed a little and I heard his deep breaths as he thrust in and out. I looked up to watch him and saw him staring intently at his cock disappearing inside my body again and again. He shifted, changing the angle of his movements and I had to shut my eyes at the charge it sent through me. He was hitting _that_ spot, deep inside me, hitting it with each steady stroke he made. I could hear my cries, feel my body arching up to meet his thrusts, wanting him deeper, wanting him faster, harder, something…

His hand on my cock picked up speed and it was too much—I was coming, my body catapulting to a place of pure pleasure. I could feel him slamming into me, his harsh cries mixing with my own as drops of cum splattered over my stomach, warm and slick, his hand wrapping around me, squeezing my cock, even as I felt him jerking erratically, spilling his own release.

He leaned over, hands on the bed by my sides, catching his breath. When he looked up at me, I gasped out an awed, "Holy fuck," and he was laughing, his shoulders shaking with mirth. Then he sat back, pulling out and tossing the condom in the waste can by the side of the bed before collapsing on his back next to me.

We woke up hours later and he fucked me again, and in the morning he sucked me off before he got ready for work. When I asked what about him, he said, "Next time I'll let you practice your blow job skills on me," and I felt a smile creep across my face and a warmth spread in my belly at the implied promise of seeing him again.

Edward was at the table drinking coffee when I, rumpled and sated, returned home.

He raised his eyebrow and asked, "And?"

"You're the best friend, _ever_," I answered with a huge smile hugging him from behind and squeezing his chest hard as I placed a fat, noisy kiss on his cheek on my way to the coffee.

Laughing, he said, "That good, huh?"

"Oh my god," I answered. "Oh. My. God." I fixed my coffee and joined him at the table. "It was incredible. Revelatory. Life changing."

"Damn. You _really_ needed to get laid," he said, continuing to laugh.

"And he wants to see me again," I added. "Tonight."

The laughter stopped.

"What? Isn't that a good thing?" He was the one who said Peter was a nice guy, after all.

He hesitated. "What?" I asked again. "What's the problem?"

"There's no problem. That's great. I'm happy for you." He forgot how well I knew him. I could see in his face he wasn't telling me everything.

"Spit it out, Edward."

"It's just that… well… Peter's not exactly the boyfriend type. I don't want you to get hurt."

But he was wrong. After that first night Peter and I couldn't get enough of each other. The first few months we were insatiable, falling into bed every chance we got. I was definitely making up for lost time. I spent more nights over at his place than I did my own.

Once that initial rush settled down, we found we enjoyed each other's company just as much out of bed as in it. Peter was a coder for software company, working on one of their online games. He was heavily into gaming theory and loved games and strategy of all kinds. When I discovered his passion for miniature wargaming, and his incredible Civil War set up, I thought there probably couldn't be anyone in the world more perfect for me.

My interest in military history and military strategy dovetailed nicely with his passions. Many evenings we'd argue about specific battles in history, such as\who would have won if things had been different—if various weapons had been available, or larger forces. Or we'd try out some designer board game his friends would hook him up with. It was hard to believe an entire year had passed since I had first seen him standing by the bar in the club.

After hanging up the phone, I moped around the apartment for a while, feeling lonely and sorry for myself, wishing Edward was home so I could talk to him. When he hadn't shown up after another hour, I finally broke down and called him.

"Hey, what are you doing?" I asked.

"Just leaving the gym. Getting ready for your hot date tonight?"

"Peter has to work."

"I'm really sorry, Jas." There was a pause. "Why don't you and I go out instead? We haven't been out in ages."

"I thought you and Trey were going out tonight."

"It's no big deal. I'll just hook up with him later."

"I don't want to ruin your plans."

"You're not. Really, he won't mind. We're just fucking. It's not a date or anything. Go on. Get changed. I'll be home in a bit."

After a bit more protest, I was persuaded and found myself dancing with Edward on Valentine's Day instead of Peter.

"See?" he yelled over the music. "Isn't this better than sitting home alone?"

I had to agree it was.

My phone buzzed a little after 1AM and I smiled when I saw a text from Peter asking if I was still awake. I immediately called him back.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm out with Edward," I yelled over the noise of the club.

"We're making really good progress. Better than I expected. I'll probably be here the rest of the night, but I don't think they'll need me tomorrow. What do you think about taking a cab and crashing at my place?" He laughed. "I'm assuming if you're with Edward, you're probably too drunk to drive.

"I like thinking that you'll be there waiting for me when I get home," he added.

"Yeah?" I asked, a stupid smile on my face.

"Yeah."

**February 14, 2001**

"C'mon, Jasper. Please? Bella said she'd only go if Alice was going too."

"I barely know Alice! I've talked to her, like, zero times before!"

"Bella said she likes you. She thinks you're cute."

I felt sick to my stomach. I didn't want girls to think I was cute. I didn't want to pretend to like that girls thought I was cute. Because deep down, deep deep down, in a secret shameful place, I wanted boys to think I was cute. And that's something I would never tell anyone, ever.

I had no idea how Edward had talked me into this. We were sitting in the back of Chief Swan's cruiser with Alice Brandon between us, being driven to the Valentine's Day dance at the middle school. Bella Swan, Edward's date, was in the front seat.

"Should I turn on the siren?" Bella's dad asked.

"Dad," Bella whined, mortified.

"Sure Chief Swan," Edward answered confidently. "And how about showing us how fast this baby can go?"

The Chief chuckled as we all jumped at the unexpected noise of the siren.

When we reached the school, he pulled up the gym entrance and stopped. "All right, kids. I'll be back at nine o'clock. Have fun."

"Thanks, Chief Swan," we said, as we got out of the car.

Bella and Edward walked ahead and I followed behind with Alice. Once we were in the gym we all found a table to sit at. Bella and Edward immediately went to dance while Alice and I sat in awkward silence.

The only moments that weren't complete torture were when Edward and Bella came back to the table. Then the excruciating silence was relieved by talk and laughter. After we had been there for about an hour, the two of them finally convinced Alice and me to come out on the dance floor. I broke into a sweat when a slow song began to play. Alice wrapped her thin little arms around my neck and looked up at me, her big blue eyes full of hope. I gave her a weak smile, but I wanted to throw up.

I was never letting Edward talk me into something like this again.

**February 14, 2003**

"Turn here," Edward said, pointing to a side street in a residential neighborhood.

"Okay, when you get to the end, make a left. There, right onto there."

I drove the car where he directed, steering onto a narrow paved path, just wide enough for a vehicle.

"At the top of this hill, it curves around. Just pull into the grass and park."

"I didn't even know this was back here," I said, as we found ourselves next to a small playground.

"I totally forgot about this place," Alice said. "My mom used to take us here when we were kids."

Edward, Bella, Alice and I had just come from the dance at the high school. We had only stayed long enough to put in an appearance, then had left to find somewhere we could relax and party a bit.

I saw the flare of a lighter in the rear view mirror and seconds later the familiar smell of weed. Edward passed the joint around, then the bottle filled with soda and some kind of liquor. I took a hit, but passed on the booze since I was driving, having finally received my license a few months ago. I knew I probably shouldn't be smoking the pot either, but I needed to be a little buzzed for what I knew was coming up shortly.

After a few more hits, and a lot of laughing, events in the back seat began progressing as they always did. Edward and Bella's joking began to get more physical, with playful smacks or grabs for the drink, until they were wrestling, and finally making out, Bella straddling Edward's lap. Their kisses were wet and noisy and we could hear the rustling of clothing, a zipper, soft gasps and moans.

I pulled Alice closer and braced myself before leaning down to kiss her.

She turned her head to talk in my ear, so my mouth ended up on the side of her head.

"Let's take a walk," she suggested.

"Okay," I answered, feeling a rush of relief.

We walked to the swings first, pumping our legs until we both reaching for the tree tops, the cold air whipping across our faces. It was a beautiful night, crisp and clear. The full moon was bright in the sky. We were both laughing and for once, I felt happy, without the heavy weight of expectations.

When we slowed and were gently moving with our feet in the sand, I suggested we try out the merry-go-round.

"C'mon, I'll spin you!"

Alice laughed. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. I'm a lightweight, you know. I may throw up."

"Gross. I promise I won't go too fast."

"All right," she agreed.

She crawled on and held the bar and I gave a gentle push, watching as she spun around.

"Faster," she directed.

I put some muscle behind my next push and she went twirling.

She shrieked and yelled, "Faster!"

I gave it all I had, then jumped on, lying flat on my back, watching the whole world spin around and around and around in a blur of moon and stars.

As we started to slow, I noticed Alice had moved so that she was lying down on her back next to me.

When we finally slowed to a stop, Alice said, "Jasper?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't have to pretend to like kissing me. I'll still be your girlfriend. I like spending time with you."

My heart skipped a beat and I felt ice through my veins. When I could breathe again, I thought I might hyperventilate and the ice melted as I started to feel too hot and a sweat broke out all over my skin.

"I don't know what you mean," I choked out in a strangled whisper.

"It's okay, Jasper," she said, reaching out to grab my hand in hers. I was glad we were both wearing gloves so she wouldn't know how badly my hand was sweating. "We don't have to talk about it."

_It_. I pushed _it_ back down deep and stared at the sky, blinking rapidly as the moon blurred again, even though we were no longer spinning.

**February 14, 2005**

Edward and I sat up on the roof of his house. The Cullens lived in one of those big geometric contemporary houses—all wood and stone and glass with weird levels and angles. When we outgrew the tree house, we had learned to stand on the railing of the small deck off his bedroom and hoist ourselves up onto the roof. We'd scale a few gently sloping sections to reach a flat area which was covered with a thick black membrane and a layer of gravel. It was the perfect spot to smoke a joint and have a few beers.

Tonight I figured we were up there so Edward could drown his sorrows. Bella had broken up with him recently, and rumor had it that she was spending Valentine's Day with Jacob Black, a tall, good-looking, well muscled guy from La Push. I'd seen him around. He drove a motorcycle and wore leather and was a walking wet dream.

"Was Alice pissed that you're not spending Valentine's Day with her?" Edward asked.

"Nah," I replied. "She was fine with it."

"Thanks for coming over."

"No problem."

I saw the flare of the lighter as Edward lit up a joint. After taking a hit he passed it to me.

"Thanks," I said, inhaling deeply and holding the smoke in my lungs.

We sat like that for a while, not saying much, finishing the joint and drinking our beer. I could feel my body begin to relax and my mind mellow out as my buzz starting kicking in. It was nice.

Eventually, Edward broke the silence.

"I came out to my parents over Christmas."

I sat in stunned silence.

"You came out," I finally said, still not quite sure I was comprehending correctly.

"Yes," he replied cautiously. "It means…"

"I know what it means," I said, cutting him off. Edward was gay?

"So… you're… gay?" I asked, wanting to be absolutely certain I was hearing what I thought I was hearing.

"Yes." I couldn't really see his face. There was light from the moon, but not enough to make out his expression. I could feel the tension, though, as he tried to gauge my reaction.

"Do you think you can deal with that?" he asked as my silence continued.

"Yes, of course," I hastened to reassure him. "You're like my brother. Nothing's going to change that.

"I just… wow," I continued, still a little in shock. "I mean, you and Bella. Wait. Does she know?"

He laughed. "Yeah. She's known for a long time. She wanted to start dating Jacob, so we 'broke up.'" He made quotation marks with his fingers.

"But you guys were having sex, weren't you?" I asked, still a little confused. I mean, I knew they had sex. Quite a lot of it, from my observations.

"Not for a long time now. Initially, yeah. I didn't really want to rule out bisexuality without giving sex with girls a fair chance."

That was so Edward, always with the scientific method. As I started thinking over what he had told me, I felt a stab of fear. If Bella knew Edward was gay, and she was best friends with Alice… I wondered if they had ever talked.

"Does anyone else know?" I asked.

"No, and I plan to keep it that way until I go to college." I felt relief flood through me. "Fuck this small town. I wanted you to know, though. I've wanted to tell you for a long time."

"I'm glad you told me." I wished I was as brave as Edward. But I wasn't.

"How did your parents react?" I asked next.

He snorted. "Who the fuck knows," he said. "You know how they are. They'd never say anything remotely politically incorrect. I think Dad probably doesn't give a shit as long as I still plan to go to medical school. Mom will probably go through a period of denial, convincing herself it's a phase, before resigning herself to the situation and facing the facts. Then she'll enthusiastically embrace the idea, deciding that it's charmingly fashionable to have a fabulous gay son."

I busted out in laughter that bordered alarmingly on giggles. I probably shouldn't have smoked so much. He certainly had his parents pegged.

"Do you still plan on going to medical school after college?" I asked after we had stopped laughing.

"Yeah. I'm tempted not to, just to piss him off, but it's what I've always wanted to do. I'm sure I can find some other way to piss him off," he added laughing. "Want another beer?" He was pulling out another joint as he spoke.

"Sure." I took it from him and twisted off the cap, taking a long swallow.

"You still planning to go to UW in the fall?"

"Yeah. My dad's still trying to get me to enlist. But… I'm not going to. Mom said she'd work on him." I felt an ache in my chest talking about next year. It seemed like all my life all I wanted to do was follow in my father's footsteps, join the military, serve my country. I didn't want to live that way forever, though. Hiding who I was. One day, I'd have the courage.

"I was afraid to tell you, you know, with your father being the way he is. I didn't know how you'd react."

"I'm not my father."

"I know. It's just… I didn't want to lose you."

"That could never happen. I'm glad you told me." Right then I wished with everything I had that I could be more like Edward. That I was brave like him. That I could find the courage to tell him.

But I couldn't.

"I'm glad I told you too."

**February 14, 2010**

I hung up the phone with a feeling of déjà vu. Peter had just called to tell me he'd be working late on a project and couldn't make it tonight for our Valentine's date.

"I'll make it up to you," he had said. "I'll take you out later this week, after everything quiets down here."

It's not that I didn't understand that shit like this sometimes happened, especially with the kind of job he did, and I knew he would take me out, and we'd have a great time; it's just that, in general, I thought things would be different by now.

When I thought back to this time last year, it seemed that we were in exactly the same place. I still stayed over several nights a week. We still had great sex. We did things socially as a couple. There was nothing wrong with our relationship, per se. We rarely argued. We had our routines and they worked well. I don't know. I almost felt stupid feeling dissatisfied, especially when I wasn't even exactly sure what I was feeling dissatisfied about. When I examined the situation a little closer, I guess I thought that maybe we'd be living together by now. Or at least having a conversation about the possibility. Or talking about the future. Or something.

We had never really discussed how we felt about each other. I knew how I felt about him, and I was pretty sure I knew how he felt about me. To be fair, I had never brought it up, but I guess I had been secretly hoping for a little romance tonight—Peter and I, out on Valentine's Day, our second anniversary, no less.

I went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer. When I finished that one, I opened another. Since I was already feeling down, I pulled out the photo album from the bookshelf. My mom had secretly boxed up some of my things after my dad and I had had our confrontation the night I came out. She had called Edward to come pick them up when my dad wasn't home. I hadn't spoken to her since that awful night. I missed her every day.

As I paged through the photos, looking at scenes of our family, seemingly so happy, I felt an aching sadness. Intellectually, I knew that my father's ignorance was the root of his rejection. Emotionally, there'd probably always be a part of me that would wonder why he couldn't love me.

I stared at a picture of him, tall dark and handsome. Strong and proud. He was leaning with his elbow on the top of a fence post, watching my mother help me on to the back of a pony. I must have been about five. There was something about the stance that reminded me of Peter, especially the night I met him, leaning against the bar.

Slamming the album shut, I went back to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of bourbon out of the cabinet and took a long swig. That was too fucking disturbing to even think about.

When Edward got home I was half in the tank, lying on the couch, the photo album draped across my stomach and the bottle of bourbon on the table next to me.

"Jesus, Jasper, what are you doing?" he asked, pulling the album from my lap and putting it back on the shelf.

"Wallowing," I slurred back.

"I can see that." He shoved my legs off the couch to make some room to sit down.

"Why do you do this to yourself" he asked in a gentle voice.

I didn't answer.

"Peter canceled for tonight," I finally admitted.

"I'm sorry. I know you were really looking forward to going out."

"Shit happens. We'll do it some night later this week."

"Still."

After a few minutes of silence, Edward said, "I'm going to call Darrin and tell him I can't meet him tonight. You and me. We'll stay home and get shit faced. What do you say?"

"I say, go fetch me another beer from the fridge, bitch."

He laughed. "You're a fucking mess."

But he got me the beer.

I made Edward take some shots while I nursed my beer, letting him catch up. He brought out some pot and we smoked a few bowls. My dark mood gradually lifted until we were practically pissing ourselves with laughter.

"Let's go to the club," I suggested. "Fuck it. You were planning to go out, and I was planning to go out, so we should go out. You up for it?"

"I'm always up for it."

"You're such a slut, Edward."

His face registered shock for a minute before he was bending over wheezing he was laughing so hard.

Eventually, we got our shit together. After quick showers which sobered us up a little, we grabbed a cab to the club. There was no way either of us was driving.

Edward immediately dragged me onto the dance floor and we stayed out there until we both had worked up a sweat. When we took a break, we downed big glasses of water before throwing back a few shots. We repeated this cycle a countless more times until we were both completely wasted.

I had my arms around Edward's neck and we were swaying slowly as the beat pounded on and bodies gyrated and bounced all around us. I could feel my maudlin mood returning. Peter hadn't called all evening. My father hated my guts. At least I had Edward.

His head was resting on my shoulder with his face pressed into my neck. I wrapped my arms more tightly around him and felt him hum, the vibrations tickling my neck as he nuzzled my skin with his mouth.

"Edward, will you be my Valentine?" I asked drunkenly.

He lifted up his head and looked at me with those beautiful green eyes.

"I've always been yours, Jasper," he said. "Always."

Then he closed the distance between us and kissed me.

His lips were soft and warm and they felt so good. Kissing him was like coming home. A random fleeting thought passed through my mind as I wondered why we had never done this before, but then I forgot everything except the feel of his lips on mine, his tongue wrapping around mine, the faint taste of bourbon in his mouth.

We kissed, swaying on the dance floor, and kissed, and kissed. I loved making out. It was something Peter didn't have much patience for. For him kissing was more a means to an end, something that was intended as a stepping stone to the fucking. He'd indulge me on occasion, but he always tired of it before I did, and brought it to an end with a, "Don't you think those lips would be happier around my cock," or some other similar statement.

But Edward, he showed absolutely no signs of tiring. He was kissing me as if he could kiss me all night, and I was kissing him back the exact same way. When someone bumped into us and we almost lost our balance, I thought how much more comfortable this would be if we were at home on the couch, lying down, his weight on top of mine, his mouth, just like this, making me feel all warm inside.

I pulled away, saying, "Let's go home."

He nodded, and I leaned back in kissing him some more. I was lost in the taste of him again, my tongue exploring his mouth, enjoying how his own teased mine and his teeth gently bit against my lip. It felt really fucking excellent. When someone jostled us again, he gave a small laugh.

"Come on," he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me through the crowd to retrieve our coats before heading to the door.

While we waited for a cab, he kissed me again, reaching his arms inside my coat to wrap them around my waist. With the cold air rousing me a bit from the warm haze inside the club, I started to notice how good his body felt against mine. He was thinner than Peter, but still muscular. I ran my hands up his sides then across his chest, enjoying the way he moaned when my fingers grazed past his nipples. I did it again to see if I could make him make that sound again and was rewarded with another one.

Kissing him and touching his body was even better than just kissing him. I moaned myself when we had to stop because the cab had just pulled up to the curb. Once we got settled and gave the driver our address, everything was okay again, because Edward was straddling my lap and his mouth was back on mine.

He was rocking against me and that was even better than the kissing and the touching. My dick liked what we were doing as much as my mouth and my hands had. I could feel him hard against me and was even more anxious to get home, imaging how much better making out on the couch would be with his hard on rubbing against my own.

I loved the little noises he was making, the moans and the sighs, and the murmurs about how good everything felt. I understood what Peter meant when he told me how much he liked the noises I made. I grabbed his ass pulling him closer to me while bucking my hips up against him just to hear him make some more.

Then somehow we were home and our coats were on the floor. I was tugging him toward the couch, kicking off my shoes, and he was saying no, the bedroom, and I could see the sense of that, so I followed him and tumbled backwards on his bed, pulling him over on top of me.

And this was better than making out in the club, and better than touching on the sidewalk, and better than grinding in the cab. It got even better when our shirts came off and our pants were on the floor. His hands were all over me and his mouth was like magic and I wondered again how we had known each other all these years and never once thought of doing this.

Then I remembered. Peter.

What was I doing? I stilled under Edward.

"What's wrong?" he whispered.

"I can't do this."

His face. God, his face. Like I was taking away everything he had ever loved.

"Please," he begged me, his voice cracking. "Please, Jasper. Just this once. Please."

I had never been able to say no to Edward.

I reached up and placed my hand on his cheek. He pressed his face against it, eyes tightly closed. Then I slid my hand around to the back of his neck and pulled him to me, so I could kiss him again.

A groan filled my mouth, desperate and hungry, and he was ravaging my lips, plunging his tongue in my mouth. His hands were everywhere, touching, kneading, stroking, pulling.

He grabbed my wrist and brought my hand to his erection, gasping a "Touch me," against my skin. I did, rubbing his cock through his boxer briefs, then slipping my hand under the waistband to feel his silken skin under my fingers, to slide my thumb against the slick head.

His body was arching into my hand and his head was thrown back, small cries coming from his mouth. Watching him, I completely understood how he could get any boy in the club; he was so fucking beautiful.

His eyes opened and locked onto mine. "I want you to fuck me. Please, fuck me, Jasper."

A wave of desire rocketed through me at his words and I felt hot and hard and consumed with want as I joined our mouths again and rocked my body against him.

When I could finally think, I pulled away to say, "I've never topped before."

His eyes were wide and vulnerable, darkened with emotion. "I've never done it like this either," he whispered.

I kissed him hard, long and deep, drowning in the feel of him, the taste of him.

"Please," he whispered again, bucking his hips against me when I moved my mouth down to suck on his neck.

I lifted my head and saw his face, full of need. "Please," he whispered once more. I could feel his hands trembling on my skin.

I nodded, then moved off him to look in his nightstand for some lube. I grabbed the bottle and a condom and dropped them on the pillow next to his head. I pulled off my shorts then helped Edward out of his, mesmerized by the sight of his dick, long and hard and jutting out from his body.

I squirted some lube on my fingers and watched in awe as his eyelids fluttered when I wrapped my hand around his cock and gave it a long stroke. Leaning over to kiss him again, I stroked him a few more times before sliding my fingers down to his opening. I could feel him tense, but I continued to kiss him until he relaxed again.

Remembering how it hurt the first time I had sex, I spent a long time preparing him, alternating between stroking his cock and burying my fingers deep in his ass. My lips stayed attached to his the entire time, kissing and tasting his amazing mouth.

And then I was inside him, and he was so hot and tight and he felt incredible. He was gasping my name and his eyes were so intense, staring into mine, and his legs were around me and his arms were around me as we rocked together. He felt so fucking good. It felt so right to be together with him like this, so perfect, like he was home and safety and comfort, but at the same time exciting and thrilling and amazing, like everything in the world was new all over again. I kissed him as I reached between us to stroke his cock and he was coming, crying out into my mouth as his wet hot release coated my fist. Then I brought my hand to my face, sucking my fingers into my mouth, kissing him at the same time, dipping my fingers into his mouth too, his salty flavor and sweet sweet lips wringing my orgasm from me as I pulsed within him again and again.

We lay there, hearts pounding, and he made a noise of protest when I pulled out to remove the condom, clutching me to him as if he never wanted to let me go. I kissed him and wrapped my arms back around him, holding him tightly to my chest, and we fell asleep like that, bodies pressed close, legs tangled together.

- o -

God, my head. I was afraid to move because I knew the moment I did, I'd be vomiting everywhere. I needed to lie still for a few minutes until I could make it to the bathroom. How much did I fucking drink last night?

I tried to piece the evening together. Peter canceling, drowning my sorrows in bourbon after dragging out the photo album, Edward coming home, going to club with Edward… kissing Edward…

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Sleeping with Edward.

Fuck.

I bolted from the bed and barely made it to the toilet before I was losing the entire contents of my stomach. I heaved and heaved until there was nothing but bile coming up.

My memories were fuzzy and chunks of time were missing, but there was no mistaking. I had woken up in Edward's bed. I had had my cock buried in Edward's ass light night. What the fuck had happened? Edward didn't even bottom. And that was definitely the first time I had ever topped.

I felt sick. And not just physically. I loved Peter. I loved him, yet I had fucked around on him on our anniversary. God. What was I going to tell him? What could I have been thinking? That wasn't me. I wasn't the type of guy to screw around. I was the guy who wanted the romance, who wanted the commitment.

What the fuck had we been thinking? This was going to completely ruin mine and Edward's friendship.

I rummaged through the medicine cabinet for some Tylenol and downed a few with a glass of water. My head was pounding. I couldn't concentrate. Everything was fucked up. Everything. One drunken night, and I had completely fucked up the two relationships that meant the most to me.

I sat down on the toilet and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. If only this was some bad dream that I'd wake up from.

After drinking another glass of water, I turned on the shower, as hot as I could stand it. I stood under the spray and let the water cascade over my body, staying there until the temperature started to run cool. Once I was toweled off and dressed, I stumbled to the kitchen. I didn't think I could handle coffee, but maybe my stomach could deal with some toast.

I was sitting at the table, head in my hands, when I heard the back door open. Edward came into the kitchen, obviously returning from a run. He looked surprised to see me, then his face shifted into an expression I couldn't read. I had no idea what he was thinking.

He took off his coat and hung it by the door, tossed his keys on the counter and sat down in the chair next to me.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

I lifted up my head, all my anguish plain on my face, and asked, "What the fuck did we do last night?"

He stood up and went to the sink, filled a glass with water and drank it. He refilled it, pulled another glass out off the cabinet and filled it too, then brought them both back to the table, sliding the second one across to me.

"Here. Drink this. You look like shit," he said.

"I feel like shit."

I drank the water then rubbed my eyes.

"How am I going to tell Peter?" I asked. "This is so fucked up."

I felt Edward's hand on my thigh. "You don't have to tell him anything, if you don't want. We were both drunk. It didn't mean anything. We just got carried away. We can forget it ever happened."

Could I do that? Could I just pretend that I hadn't fucked around on my boyfriend with my best friend?

I lifted my face to look at Edward. "What about us? Did we completely fuck up our friendship?"

"Nothing could fuck up our friendship. Nothing. You and me? Nothing in the world could ever change that. Got it?"

I nodded, wanting with all my heart to believe that was true.

"I'm sorry, Jasper," he said next. "I'd never want to do anything to mess up your relationships with Peter. I know how you feel about him. I should never have let things get that far."

"You? It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. You're not the one in the relationship."

"I… I know we're both at fault. But…well, you were already wasted by the time I got home. I should have… I should have been taking care of you…"

I looked up and was surprised to see his eyes welling up. I don't think I'd ever seen Edward upset to the point of tears.

"It's not your fault, Edward," I repeated. I buried my face in my hands again. "God, this is so fucked up."

"I'm sorry," he said again. His voice broke on the words.

"I can't think," I said. My head was still pounding and I wasn't sure I was going to keep down the toast. "I'm going to go back to bed for a few hours."

I could feel Edward's eyes following me as I left the room.

In the end I decided not to tell Peter. Edward was right; it was a one time drunken mistake. I didn't see any reason to hurt Peter, simply because I wanted to relieve my guilty conscience.

Unfortunately, it wasn't that easy. I couldn't just forget. The guilt ate and ate and ate at me. Peter did take me out later in the week. It was a perfect date. He was attentive, charming, the ideal boyfriend. When we got back to his place, he was all over me. This was normally how we ended our evenings, but my betrayal was too fresh in my mind for me to truly enjoy myself. So instead, I got down on my knees to suck him, and when he was panting and gripping my hair, beginning to lose control, I climbed on the bed, kneeling with my ass in the air for him to fuck me from behind. I couldn't bear to look him in the eyes.

He quickly prepared me and thrust in to me with a groan, telling me how good I felt. As always, he was a generous lover, making sure I got off with his agile hand wrapped around my cock. He came inside me, then flopped down on his back with a satisfied sigh and soon was asleep. I lay there for hours, wondering how I could live like this, keeping secrets after I had lost so much already from wanting to live without them.

I avoided getting together with Peter the next few weeks, claiming grad school was kicking my ass. When he asked me if anything was wrong, if I was mad at him about something, I lied even more, all the while feeling guilty about Peter thinking it was something he did, rather than knowing it was something I had done.

Things were awkward with Edward as well. No matter what he said about our friendship not changing, I didn't know how to act around him. That night was still fuzzy—I tried not to think about it at all—but I did have vague memories, more impressions really, that left me feeling unsettled. I avoided examining them too closely. I hoped with a little time, things would go back to normal between us.

After another month or so of dancing around things with Peter, snapping at him over stupid shit, things finally came to a head.

"Would you please tell me what the fuck I did?" he demanded. "Is it still that stupid Valentine's date? It seems like you've had permanent PMS since then. I fucking told you I had no choice; I had to work. And I tried to make it up to you. I thought we had a great time?"

I sunk into a chair, my elbows on the table, my hands in my hair. I had to tell him. Telling him might ruin everything, but not telling him was already doing the job.

"Yes, it's about Valentine's Day," I started.

"That's not fair," he cut me off. "I had to work."

I shook my head with a heavy sigh. "It's not that." I took a deep breath, steeling myself to tell him. "I slept with Edward that night."

I watched his face when I told him, seeing the surprise and something else. He looked uncomfortable. And unsure.

"Are you breaking up with me?" he asked.

"No, I'm not breaking up with you."

"Well," he said in a careful measured voice, "we never promised we'd be exclusive."

I was stunned. That was completely not the reaction I was expecting. What did he mean we'd never promised to be exclusive? We'd been practically living together for the past two years. I knew we had never really talked about any of this, but still. My mind was reeling at the implications.

"So… you're not upset?"

"Are you still seeing him?" he asked.

"What? No! He's like my brother."

"Right. Your brother who you have sex with." Peter tended toward sarcasm when he was angry.

"It wasn't like that," I protested. "We were drunk. It was one time."

He held up his hand. "I believe you," he said with a sigh.

A tense silence filled the room. He rubbed his hands over his face.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked.

"Have you been sleeping with other people?" I asked. From his reaction before, I thought I already knew the answer.

"A few times. Now and then," he said with another sigh.

"How many is a few?" I asked.

"Jasper…"

"How many?"

"I don't know. A half dozen maybe."

"Who?"

"They didn't mean anything, Jasper."

"Who?" I insisted.

"Randall. Charlotte. Maria once."

Could this entire conversation be even more bizarre?

"Charlotte and Maria? As in, girls?" I asked, my voice laced with incredulity.

"Yes, girls," he said with another touch of sarcasm. "You know I'm bisexual."

No, I actually didn't know Peter was bisexual. I was starting to think I didn't know anything about our relationship at all.

I stood up abruptly. "I think I'm gonna go. I need to think."

Peter grabbed my hand.

"Whoa. Wait a minute." He pulled me toward him and wrapped his arms around me.

"Don't leave," he said. "This doesn't have to be a big deal."

He tilted my chin up so that he could look in my eyes.

"You know how much I care about you, right?"

I nodded, even though I wished he'd actually say it for once.

"C'mon. Sit down with me. Let's talk."

I let him lead me over to the couch. He grabbed both my hands after we were seated.

"I'm okay with the Edward thing," he said. "You said it was just that one night, right? A one time drunken thing?"

I nodded again.

"You're so much younger than I am. Still in school. I know I was the first guy you'd even been with. I figured, you know, you'd want to have your fun. I guess we should have talked more, huh?"

"Is that what you were doing? Having your fun?" I knew I sounded bitter, but I was very hurt. I'd had no idea he was seeing anyone else.

He let go of my hands to rub his face again.

"I'm sorry, Jasper. I had no idea you wanted to be exclusive. I just assumed…

"Look," he continued. "Those others… it's not like what we have. That was just sex. You know you're the one who's important to me, right?"

I thought I knew that. Now I wasn't sure of anything. I wouldn't look at him.

"Hey," he said softly. He grabbed my chin again, gently turning my face toward his. "If you want us to be exclusive, I'm okay with that. More than okay with it. I think it's great."

I still didn't say anything.

"Is that what you want?" he asked.

I nodded again.

"Then that's what I want too."

He leaned over to kiss me. I let him.

"Will you stay tonight?"

I kissed him in answer.

He was extra attentive that night in bed, kissing every inch of me, worshipping my body, bringing me to the edge again and again with his hands and his mouth. He rimmed me for a longer time and more thoroughly than he ever had before, and when he penetrated me, we were face to face; I was held close while he whispered things in my ear that I wanted to hear.

**February 14, 1994**

I was sitting at the breakfast bar, eating my after school snack, telling my mom about my day.

"And we had a party, and we passed out valentines and ate candy in the shape of hearts."

I jumped down off my chair and ran over to my backpack, pulling out a big red heart cut out of construction paper.

"And look at the one Edward made me! It was bigger than any of the other ones in the whole class!"

Inside, in black marker, Edward had carefully written: _Be my Valentine. Love, Edward._

"When we get older, Edward says we're going to get married."

I heard my mom's sharp intake of breath and looked up to see her staring in fear at the kitchen door. My father stood there, and I recognized the look on his face. The valentine dropped from my hands and fell to the floor. I stopped talking and stood as still as I could.

My mom stepped in front of me and said, "Sit down and finish your snack."

She left the room, pulling my father with her by the elbow. I stared at my juice feeling sick to my stomach as I heard them arguing in the other room.

"_Not raising a little faggot…" _

"_Don't be ridiculous… seven years old…like brothers" _

"_Keep him away from that Cullen boy…" _

"…_just boys…like brothers…"_

"_No kid of mine…" _

"…_grown up together…like brothers… no idea what he's saying…" _

"…_see about that…"_

My father and my mother were in the doorway again.

"Jasper, tell your father how you feel about your friend Edward," her eyes were pleading with me. I knew the fight had something to do with the valentine, but I wasn't sure what. I knew what was going to happen if I gave the wrong answer. I could see my dad's hands in fists at his sides. I thought back to the argument I had overheard and keyed in on the phrase my mom had repeated over and over.

"He's like my brother."

I could see Mom's shoulders relax and the relief on her face. I knew I had gotten the answer right.

My dad stared at me and I held still, not wanting to do anything else to upset him. Then he turned and left the room without saying anything else.

My mom picked the valentine Edward had given me off the floor and crumpled it up, throwing it in the trash. I took a bite of my snack and tried not to cry.

"Honey, boys can't get married to each other. Only boys and girls can get married. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

"You can't say things like that about Edward. You boys are like brothers. Brothers can't get married to each other. Okay?"

"Okay," I whispered.

"Now finish your snack, and you can go watch a television show."

I could see her hands shaking as she nervously puttered around the kitchen, and I knew it was a very bad thing I had said about me and Edward getting married, even if I wasn't sure why.

**February 14, 2006**

"You and Alice have plans tonight?" Edward asked as he flopped down on the bed in our dorm room.

I was at the desk, surfing the 'net on my laptop. I knew this conversation would come up eventually.

"No. We're not really seeing each other any more."

"You're not? When did that happen?"

"A while ago."

"And you didn't think to mention it to your best friend?"

The truth was, Alice and I had always only ever been friends, even if I had tried pretending it was more years ago. It was convenient for me to let my dad and everyone else think otherwise, and she generously played along.

Once I was at school and away from him, and wasn't forced to constantly assert my heterosexuality, Alice and I had naturally drifted apart. She had easily made new friends at college and I certainly wasn't going to get in the way of her finding someone more suitable to date.

"Sorry. I guess I thought you already knew."

"What happened?" He sat up and had his hands clasped in front of him, elbows on his knees as he stared at me intently. There was something about the way he was looking at me that triggered a flash of understanding.

He knew. He knew, and he was giving me an opportunity to tell him.

I glanced away. "We just wanted different things."

"You know," he said carefully, "if you ever need to talk about… different things… or if you wanted to discuss things with… other people… you know I'm here for you, right?"

"Yeah, I know," I whispered. "Thanks."

He waited, but when it became obvious that I wasn't going to say anything else, he said, "Well, since you don't have plans, you want to go grab a couple of beers?"

"Sure. That sounds good."

**February 14, 2011**

"What are you and Peter planning for tonight?" Edward asked.

I looked up from where I was sitting on the couch reading.

"We're supposed to go out to dinner, then dancing later." I gave a little laugh. "I keep expecting his call to tell me he has to cancel. We've yet to ever actually go out on Valentine's Day."

He hesitating, standing there, awkwardly running his hand through his hair.

I looked at him questioningly.

"Um, is everything okay between you and Peter?" he asked.

"What? Why do you ask that?"

"You've just spent a lot more time at home lately." He shook his head. "Not that I'm complaining, and not that it's any of my business."

"You're one to talk." I couldn't remember the last time Edward had gone out, let alone saw a guy stumbling out of his bedroom in the morning.

"I told you. Med school's a lot harder than I expected."

I let it drop. He obviously didn't want to talk about it. I had watched Edward as he had gradually become more withdrawn and reclusive. I was worried about him. He was acting as if he were depressed, but he refused to talk about it with me, no matter how many times I tried to broach the subject.

"Peter and I are fine," I finally answered. "It's just… I've got a lot of things on my mind. I needed some space to think."

It had been kind of a rocky year for me and Peter. After the night we agreed to be exclusive, I started examining every aspect of our relationship. Exclusivity should have been a big step forward for us; instead, I felt as if we had taken a giant step back, since it was something I had thought we had had all along.

Initially, I had done my best to be the best boyfriend and partner I could be. While I recognized that Peter forgave me for sleeping with Edward, the truth was, while he may not have considered us exclusive, I had; I had been the unfaithful one. I had cheated, not him, even if he had actually slept with more people than I had.

I didn't complain when he had to work late or cancel plans. I gave a lot of head. When he'd roll over after we made love and would immediately fall asleep lying flat on his back, I tried not to think about the one memory from that Valentine's night that had stuck with me, clear as day—being held tightly, legs tangled, arms wrapped round each other.

Of course the more I tried not to think about it, the more I craved it. Although Peter had said all the right things to me when we had made love that night, he hadn't ever said them again. It wasn't his style.

I revisited that disturbing fleeting thought I had had when I looked at the photo album of my family, when the picture of my dad briefly reminded me of Peter.

They were alike in many ways. Apart from his attentiveness in bed, Peter was not very demonstrative—definitely not a talk about your feelings kind of guy. My dad was the opposite of affectionate, and I couldn't ever remember a time when he had actually told me he loved me.

Peter tended toward OCD behavior and liked everything to be just so. I found that aspect of his personality easy to accommodate, as my dad's military background made him organized and disciplined, and the household I grew up in functioned much the same way.

Not to mention the physical resemblance: they were both tall, dark, and handsome. I had inherited my mother's light eyes and blond hair.

I wished I had never taken psychology as an undergrad when I began to wonder if my attachment to Peter stemmed in part from a desire to finally receive the approval and affection I was denied from my father.

I finally decided that even if there was some underlying truth to the idea, it didn't make my feelings for Peter any less real. I loved him. I think I had fallen in love with him that very first night.

Of course that line of thought had me questioning how quickly we got involved. Did I fall so hard and fast because it was the first time another guy actually had his mouth on my cock? Would I have fallen in love with anyone I slept with that night?

When I tried to look at our relationship objectively, it was obvious that my ideas about it and Peter's ideas about it were at odds. I wondered if I had convinced myself there was more there than there actually was, so that I could justify that losing my family had been a worthwhile sacrifice.

The more unsettled my thoughts made me, the more I craved comfort and familiarity. I found myself spending more and more time at the apartment with Edward, even if we were awkward and uncomfortable around each other at first. Eventually, things did go back to normal. Well, normal except for Edward's moodiness and depression.

I finally got the courage to ask him if it had anything to do with us sleeping together, but he insisted it was the pressure of Med school. Nothing more. I didn't believe him, but if he didn't want to talk to me about it, there wasn't really anything I could do.

He had gotten worse since Christmas, and I felt partially responsible. Peter had actually invited me home, to meet his parents. I was excited, finally feeling that our relationship was moving forward. It was the kind of thing I had always wanted from him—a commitment toward the future, something tangible to show that I was important to him. When I told Edward, I could tell he was disappointed. For the last several years, I had spent Christmas with him and his parents. I felt torn between the two of them, but there wasn't really a choice for me; of course I was going to spend Christmas with my boyfriend's family.

The funny thing was I missed Edward the entire time, and I couldn't wait to get home. Peter's family was great, and the visit was nice, but I felt more like a guest than family.

"What kind of things?" Edward asked. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Asks the guy who won't talk about anything."

"Whatever," he said, with a roll of his eyes.

"It's nothing, really. Just the same old stuff."

"Like what?"

"I just thought things would be different after Christmas. But here I am, waiting around for Peter to call, to find out if we're still on for tonight."

"Well, if he cancels, you know you've always got me," Edward said with a smile. For a minute, I could see that spark, the Edward of old who didn't walk around with a cloud of gloom and doom over his head.

I smiled. "Yeah, I know."

A warm glow spread through my stomach as we shared a moment of understanding. Edward was always going to be there for me, no matter what, and I'd be there for him, always.

My cell phone rang. Edward walked to the kitchen while I spoke with Peter.

"_Hey, we're good to go for tonight. And I've got news. I asked to be taken off the online game and put on a PC product. I'll still have some deadlines here and there, but it won't be the crazy real time shit I've dealt with for so long with these insane episodic updates."_

"No shit. Really?"

"_Yeah. I'll have more of a normal schedule. It will be a lot easier to spend time together."_

"That's great."

"_Now get your ass over here, so I can take you out and celebrate."_

I laughed. "On my way."

"_See you in a bit."_

I hung up the phone, lost in thought.

Edward walked back in the room. "Peter?"

"Yeah. We're on for tonight."

"I'm glad it worked out for you."

I didn't reply, still thinking.

"Jasper?"

"Hmmm? Oh. Sorry. He's changing his work schedule so we can spend more time together."

"That's good, right? Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yeah, it's what I wanted."

"I'm happy for you."

"What are you going to do tonight?"

"I'll probably stay in. Get some studying done."

"You're working too hard, Edward. You should go out for a while. Have a little fun."

"I'll think about it."

I stood up. For some reason I was reluctant to leave.

"Well," I said, "I'll see you later."

"Happy Valentine's Day, Jasper."

"Happy Valentine's Day, Edward."

On the way over to Peter's my mind was spinning. I should be excited about Peter's news. It was exactly what I had wanted, another tangible sign that he wanted a future with me. And for once we were actually going out on Valentine's Day.

I should be excited, but instead, I was feeling disappointed that I wasn't spending the evening with Edward after all.

I found a spot to pull over and stopped the car. I needed to think.

All sorts of memories of me and Edward were running through my head. When I stopped to consider it, I couldn't remember a single Valentine's Day that I hadn't spent with him. Even all the way back to when we were seven years old and it was ingrained in me that I shouldn't ever think of him as anything other than a brother.

Another memory came into my head, and this time I didn't push it away as I had every other time it flitted near my consciousness: the two of us completely wasted, swaying together on the dance floor, bodies pressed close.

"_Edward, will you be my Valentine?" _

"_I've always been yours, Jasper," he said. "Always."_

Every moment of my life shifted and reorganized itself in a blinding moment of clarity.

I restarted the car and pulled back out onto the road, heading toward Peter's.

He opened the door, and pulled me in for a kiss, his hand hidden behind his back. When we pulled apart, he produced a long stemmed red rose, with a "Happy Anniversary, babe."

My heart sank in anticipation of what I was about to do.

His smile faded.

"Fuck.," he said. "I knew it. I knew I fucked it all up, right from the start, didn't I? It's all just a little too little, a little too late, isn't it?"

He didn't wait for me to answer, but walked over to sit on the couch, rubbing his face with his hands.

I sat down beside him.

"Should I cancel our reservations?" he asked.

"Yes. I just came to talk and to pick up my things."

He was quiet, then he started speaking. "I've always known the kinds of things you wanted. Some of that stuff… it's just not me, you know?"

I did know.

"I was willing to try, though."

I felt my throat closing up. I didn't know what to say.

"Is it Edward?" he asked

"Yeah," I whispered. "I think it always has been."

He nodded.

"I think you should go, because any second I'm going to get sarcastic and bitchy and mean and I don't want us to end that way. I'll get your stuff together and call you soon, okay?"

"Okay."

He walked me to the door. As I turned to say good bye, he pulled me into a tight hug, squeezing me hard and burying his face in my hair.

When he pulled away, I was surprised to see tears in his eyes.

"Go on. Get out of here," he said, with a pained smile.

"Peter…" I started.

"I'll be fine," he cut in. "I'm too old for you anyway."

I reached for him and gave him another hard hug back, then I turned and left, getting into my car and heading toward home.

When I returned to the apartment, I was surprised that Edward wasn't there. I had suggested he go out, but I hadn't expected him to actually do so. He certainly hadn't the last dozen or so times I had suggested it.

I grabbed my keys and got in the car again, heading to the club.

I scanned the crowd, looking for Edward, but saw no signs of him.

"Have you seen Edward?" I yelled to the bartender over the noise of the music.

He shook his head no.

I left the club and walked the block or so to another bar we frequented.

My heart started racing when I saw the head of familiar reddish brown hair. He was sitting on a stool, leaning on the edge of the bar, arms folded in front of him, shoulders hunched, head hanging low.

I slid into the seat next to him.

"Hey. Can I buy you a drink?" I asked.

He looked up, shocked. I winced at the dead look in his eyes.

"Jasper?" He looked around. "What are you doing here? Where's Peter?"

"We broke up."

His expression livened as that spark suddenly appeared.

"You broke up," he repeated. "What happened?"

"I told him I was in love with someone else."

He came back to life as a smile started blooming across his face.

"You told him you were in love with someone else," he repeated again. He was grinning now, his smile lighting up the entire room.

Then he leaned back away from me.

"Wait," he frowned with mock concern. "It's me, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, it's you, you idiot."

He laughed, grabbing me and pulling me toward him. His hand was in my hair and his lips were on mine, and it was perfect. So fucking perfect. Hot and sweet and home and love. When his tongue slid against mine, I thought I would melt onto the floor.

He pulled away, and I stared at him, dazed.

"Just checking," he said before he kissed me again.

* * *

AN:Thank you so much to everyone who read and commented on the fest submissions on Live Journal, and special thanks to **OnTheTurningAway** and **naelany** for organizing the fest! It was such fun to take part in and try to guess all the wonderful authors and artists. You can find the link on my profile to all the other submissions, plus the reveals. Thank you, as always, to my beta **OnTheTurningAway**.


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